The Visitors
by SaturnOolaa
Summary: When Naruto gets hurt, his friends come to see him. A series of perspectives. Set in a presumed future.


Disc: Not mine.  
AN: Happy 2005, everyone! This is either my first fic of the new year or my last of the old, seeing as it was actually completed a month ago or so. I like writing gen. And I really, really tend to avoid implying relationships that are not in the canon. But what the heck, it's the holiday season. Hey! Did you notice how I very, very carefully didn't say anything about where Sasuke is when this takes place? I'm so clever. Have fun.

THE VISITORS

i.

Neji hears the attack before he sees it; a chirping of electricity similar in sound to Chidori, and then a fluorescent yellow in the air and the smell of ozone. He knows that the sound must have caught Naruto off guard. He turns his head to check, but turns back again to dodge his own attacker, and so it's not until half a minute later that he sees Naruto unmoving on the ground.

For a moment it is as though all the oxygen in his body has rushed out of him. He's still on his feet- he seals off the chakra in a woman's arms and goes for her throat with a kunai- but for all he knows he could be dying. He could be the one lying there instead of Naruto.

He feels dizzy and almost sick with embarrassment, like the times when he's training and even with Byakugan suddenly all he can see is a smile with whiskers at the cheeks.

It's not as if the guy was strong. He was a thug in comparison to Naruto. It was only a B Rank mission. If not for that sound, the team could have gotten out without a scratch.

Like so many things, in the end, the fault is Sasuke's.

Soon enough, the remains of Neji's opponent are splattered all over his jacket. He runs.

Naruto is curled around himself like someone's sick idea of a fetus. "Hey," he says, grinning stupidly. His fingers curl up in a little half-wave. "How... dumb is this, do ya think...?"

The dizziness comes back. Neji's not a medic, but he knows bad when he sees it. "On a scale of one to ten?" he asks, sharply, hoping to offer some comfort by pretending things are normal. "Ten. Don't move. I think he got your spinal cord."

Naruto's eyes are fluttering closed like little dying birds. His voice is hoarse and drawn out. "Oh, shit. I... kinda need that, don't I."

"You'll be fine." Neji looks around and sees Shikamaru not too far away. He yells for help with his hands cupped around his mouth so Naruto won't hear it.

Then comes the difficult part.

He hasn't touched Naruto in years. The last time, a brief and likely accidental brush of hands when he'd passed the salt during lunch, he'd been overcome with the sensation that everyone could see his heart pulsing like mad in his chest. The image was so real it scared him. He had ripped his hand away from the table and kept his coat on the rest of the week.

Sometimes that vulnerability still comes apon him. Sometimes he still looks around, eyes wide with paranoia, and feels like everyone knows the shame and rage and love at the bottom of his chest.

Although he struggles, although he hates himself for it, he can't work up the strength to lay a finger on Naruto until he is very sure he is already unconscious.

Then he picks him up with precise carefulness and holds him close in his arms until someone finds a stretcher.

ii.

"Shit!" yells Konohamaru, flying into the apartment like a bat out of hell.

Moegi is tying her rag doll orange hair into pigtails above her headband. She looks up, startled. "Fuck, Konohamaru-chan! Don't use such a dirty word!"

A snort comes from Udon, stretched out on the carpet reading a magazine.

Konohamaru glares at both of them. "No jokes! Something's happened to Naruto-niichan!"

"Is the team back already?" asks Udon lethargically. He flips another page. "I thought they would be gone for two months."

"They just said that so they could take some time off," replies Moegi with a roll of her eyes. "They've been working nonstop since January. Takoshi-kun knows Godaime-sama's personal secretary, and he says they were actually going for a holiday after they wrapped up in-"

A low growl pierces the room. Konohamaru is glowering with animosity. "I SAID," he yells, storming across the floor to the couch, "something's HAPPENED to our BOSS! And he's in the HOSPITAL! And GODAIME-SAMA'S NOT SURE IF SHE CAN HEAL HIM!"

Moegi springs up from the couch, pigtails flopping over into her face. She doesn't notice. Even Udon rises to his knees. "Godaime-sama can heal anything," he says matter-of-factly, face nevertheless going a little pale.

"Well, yeah," admits Konohamaru, who said it to make them pay attention. He hadn't wanted people getting scared. He wasn't supposed to be talking about the situation. "She thinks she can do it. But it's gonna take a while, and she's worried. It's a very delicate procedure, she said." He swallows. "He might... it might not work."

Udon pushes his glasses up on his nose, picks up his magazine (Weapons Monthly), and looks towards the laundry room. "Are all the sleeping bags dry?" he asks calmly.

"I think mine's still wet," Moegi replies. She makes a beeline for the kitchenette. "It's okay, I'll use the blanket off my bed. Where's the icebox?" Then she turns around again, thoughtful. "On second thought, maybe they'll let us use the hospital fridge. Let's call and check."

Grabbing for the phone, Udon looks to the whiteboard where the non-emergency number for the hospital is written. He's clumsy with his hands. It takes several tries to get the buttons right.

"What are you guys doing?" asks Konohamaru, hope rising in his voice.

Moegi stares at him incredulously. "What are you talking about, Konohamaru-chan? We're going to camp out at the hospital! Aren't you coming?"

Konohamaru grins, displaying the one gap where an adult tooth never came in. "Yeah!"

iii.

Patting off her excess blush with a tissue, Ino leans over and kisses the mirror. Her lips leave a rose-coloured smudge. She turns, takes several deep breaths, and kneels on the tatami. Now she's ready.

When her mother did ikebana, she always wore a kimono and no makeup. She said it was the tradition. Ino thought it seemed stupid to make yourself uncomfortable right off the bat. It's hard enough work without your sleeves in the way. She has always done her best work in her own clothes; dressed up as though for a night out, solemn and concentrated on the floor.

The flowers are already laid out in front of her. She probably went through the entire store twice looking for appropriate choices. She would have picked them herself, if she could have, but it's late autumn and all the ideas she'd had were out of season. Also on the floor is her best dish- a yellow glazed pot with a wide mouth and base. She keeps it on the shelf in her room. She's only ever used it twice before, once for a wedding and once for a funeral.

All in all, it takes her three hours.

It is the most difficult arrangement she has ever made. What does she know about Naruto? Not enough, and also more than she would like. People only ever hear about the bad parts of his life- loneliness, anger, and loss. She wants to make something beautiful without making him unhappy.

She had even considered drafting it out on paper, earlier, although the idea had been discarded right away. It's tempting fate to ignore tradition all the time.

A joyous combination of wildflowers and cultivated miniature sunflowers takes form under her hands. Her knees ache. Sweat drips down her powdered forehead. She makes another minute adjustment to the position of a twig.

Finally, it is done. Then she rises slowly from her position and collapses onto the bed. Reaching for the phone, she pulls the pillow over her head and wipes the sweat and makeup off her face. They leave smears of black and red on the case. The fatigue she feels is comparable to the aftermath of Shintenshin no Jutsu.

"Ino," the voice on the other line says. "Is it finished?"

She huffs. "Why else would I be calling? It's the most gorgeous thing you'll ever see in your life. I killed myself on it. You have three-way, right? Get Chouji on his cell. We need to talk."

There's a ringing, and then Chouji picks up and the reception gets a little fuzzier. "Shikamaru?"

"I'm here too," says Ino irritably. She's feeling the beginnings of a throbbing headache. "Are you at the hospital? Did you get us seats?"

There's a pause as Chouji takes a bite of something she thinks is a chocolate bar. "...Sorry. I found us a space, but all the hospital chairs were taken. You'll have to bring some chairs from home." Another bite. "Bring the cribbage board, too. I forgot it."

Shikamaru sighs. "Fine. But when we get there, you're going to buy dinner." He sighs. "This is too much work."

"You're telling me," Ino replies with a snort. "You're not the one who just wasted her afternoon on a bouquet for some dead-last loser who can't keep himself out of trouble. I don't know why we're doing this in the first place."

"I'm coming over," says Shikamaru, dropping the phone with a noise that increases the tension in her skull. Chouji says goodbye briefly and hangs up too.

Ino likes being a bitch around her friends. Now that she's older, she's become painfully aware that sometimes she has to get by with a smile and a respectful bow. Because she's a ninja, she knows that she still has her pride no matter what... but it's hard to hide her true self behind pleasantness. Chouji and Shikamaru know what she really means when she talks. They always have.

Sometimes, though, other people do too. And she thinks Naruto might be one of those people.

She rises from the bed and begins slapping on a fresh coat of makeup. If Shikamaru messes up her flower arrangement on the way to the hospital, even a little bit, she'll beat him up before he knows what hits him.

iv.

Sakura sits on the toilet seat in the private washroom, staring across the space into the mirror. It is tilted down slightly so that people in wheelchairs can see themselves. The angle makes her forehead look bigger.

Not that she minds, anymore. These days she ties her headband across her forehead like Naruto.

At first it was hard to take him as her role model. She kept making excuses for herself; she was too embarrassed, too neurotic, it was too late to change, she could never be like Tsunade-sama, she had already drilled it into her head that men wouldn't like you if you were too successful. She was doomed to spend the rest of her life one step behind the others, just one more kunoichi who couldn't match up to the big boys.

It started with the small things. Just because you have a crush on someone doesn't mean they don't deserve a kick in the head now and then. Focus on your weaknesses as well as your strengths. See Ino? She's a girl too, and she could beat half the Jounin in town. See Rock Lee? He can't even use genjutsu, and he was half-dead once, and he's one of the strongest rookies who ever retook the exam.

See Naruto? See how many times the world's pushed him down? And he hasn't given up. He keeps going.

She wanted to do that, too.

Now, a newly minted Jounin, she lifts weights and does two hundred crunches every morning before breakfast. She's known as Godaime's successor among medics who were already impressed by Shizune. She smiles every morning when she walks down the street. She has pride in her abilities. She's not as renowned as her former teammates, but she's getting there.

Even so, at times like these, she looks into the mirror and sees the same girl who sat at a bedside peeling apples and waiting.

"Sakura!" calls Tsunade's voice from the hospital room. Grudgingly leaving her seat, Sakura swings the door open and walks out. Tsunade, sitting at Naruto's bedside, raises an eyebrow. "This is a hospital. Haven't you learned anything? Wash your hands."

Sakura sighs a little half-laugh and does so, leaving the door open. "How's his condition?" She wants to sound casual. Maybe the splash of the tap will hide her concern.

"...Stable, and recovering fast," Tsunade replies, after pausing for a moment. She gestures to the lines on his cheeks. "I assumed that the regenerative power of the Kyuubi would slow down with his metabolism. That was a mistake. He was hit in most of his spinal pressure points, but his chakra wasn't sealed, and I've seen worse damage on those with less healing ability." She looks up and grins, eyes filled with a fierce happiness. "He'll be up and out in a few days, at most."

"No lasting damage, then?" Sakura exits the bathroom, smiling, but not too widely. "I'm glad. Should I stay overnight?"

Tsunade shakes her head. Sakura notices that she's letting her hair grey slightly- a sign of her concern for Naruto, or a small surrender to her age. Maybe both. "You won't see anything the hospital staff can't deal with, and I doubt he's able to register your presence. He won't wake up tonight. Go home and get some rest."

The smart thing would be to follow her advice. She's a big girl now. There's nothing keeping her here, worrying helplessly for a teammate, unable to do anything really useful or practical in the midst of her concern. Naruto will be fine. She has a warm bed waiting for her. She doesn't have to stay.

On the other hand, sometimes strength is facing up to what you really want.

"No, I think I'll watch him after all," says Sakura, looking absently over Naruto's sleeping face. "Could you get an attendant to bring me a pillow?"

v.

Naruto wakes up to voices that sound very far away. He's lying in bed, and he can feel his body from his forehead all the way down to his toes. That's a good sign. Tentatively, he arches his back, and it doesn't hurt so much at all. Another good sign.

Finally, he opens his eyes. Out of the corner of his eye, he can see Sakura talking lightly with an attendant, and he brings a hand up in a wave. "Hey! I'm up! Aren't you forgetting somebody over here? You're gonna make me feel neglected!"

"Welcome back to the world of the living," says Sakura, turning around. She's not smiling very much, but Naruto's gotten okay at reading her face, and he can see how happy she is. He appreciates it. "How do you feel?"

He sits up in the bed. "Drugged. I, uh, how long have I been out?"

"About a week." Sakura shakes her head, amused. "We were pretty worried for a while. Feel up to a stroll? There's something you should see before you eat."

Naruto's eyes widen. "Did somebody else... who? There can't have been anyone else dumb enough on the team to-"

"No, they're all fine." Sakura grabs his arm and hauls him out of bed. He's wearing a hospital gown and his penguin nightcap. He manages to grab his headband from the bedside table before she ushers him out the door and down the hall. "C'mon. I can't wait to see this."

They enter the waiting room. There is a moment of total stillness as Naruto looks around.

It has become a refugee camp. There are sleeping bags everywhere on the floor, packed up or spread out like picnic blankets. Shikamaru, Ino, and Chouji are playing cribbage while fighting over a bag of popcorn. Hinata is quietly paging through one of Kiba's dirty magazines. Rock Lee does backflips over the rows of chairs. Iruka sits on the floor with the TV remote being harassed by Moegi and Konohamaru. In the middle of the room, like a shrine, sit dozens of greeting cards and flowers and industrial-sized boxes of ramen.

Neji's hands are in his lap. He is twisting them into knots. When he sees Naruto, his eyes light up like little stars.

"Took you long enough," he says, gruffly.

Naruto feels like a kid at Christmas. "...Sorry," he says with a sheepish grin. The rest of the room looks up. In a moment, he's almost mobbed by a group of acquaintances who are all hugging him and hitting him and laughing and, in some cases, crying with relief.

Beside him, Sakura rolls her eyes. "You idiots! You'll break his back again!"

Then she laughs, with a little sigh, and fishes him out of the crowd. "I said we were worried, didn't I? They've been here since you came back. Now what do you want for lunch?"

So Naruto goes to the cafeteria, and eats until he's ready to burst, and replies to every single get-well card.

And in a few years, when the village elects him Hokage, somehow he really isn't surprised at all.

END 


End file.
